Hamish snorted. “He’s bloody mad, then. You marry her.”
“Alas, I am not a shifter, brother.” He widely smiled. “Much to Faegan’s consternation. I’m only good to him as a negotiator and a businessman.”
“I suppose you helped arrange this shite?”
He shrugged. “I have connections, after all.”
Hamish tamped down his growing rage, preferring to hear all the details first. “Tell me the full story.”
“The woman’s family wants shifter progeny to bolster their ranks. They’re willing to pay five thousand pounds as a dowry for the match.”
“And I don’t see a single quid of that, I’m betting?” Hamish resumed washing up, a plan already coalescing in his mind.
One he’d pondered before but hoped he’d never need to enact.
“Well, it does take a lot to run an estate of this size, Ham. And you do live here rent-free. It’s the family funds, after all.” He smiled again, smarmy, greasy. “Time for you to earn your keep.”
“Don’t suppose Faegan would consider doing an honest day’s work, hmm?” While the estate wasn’t as wealthy as others, between the income from the tenant farmers and from the estate’s own crops tended by packmates indebted to Faegan, they paid their bills with a tidy profit each year.
“What’s the fun in that?” Donnel downed the last swallow of scotch and walked over, setting the glass on the table. “Anyway, message delivered. He wants to see you tomorrow for dinner at the big house. Seven sharp.” Donnel waggled a finger at him. “Dressed properly for you to meet your bride for the first time.”
“I’m not marrying someone for Faegan’s use.”
“Come now, brother. She’s not bad-looking. She just turned sixteen. Even if she’s not to your tastes, no one says you must stay faithful to her.” He slapped Hamish on the shoulder. “Have fun breeding her. Once she catches, send her home to her mum to cry on her shoulder. Then live your life and tup other bitches at your leisure until it’s time to breed your bride again.”
He departed while Hamish stood there, forcing himself to remain still despite wanting to rip out his brother’s throat.
Donnel always was a smug bastard, which was yet another of the many reasons Hamish didn’t want to live in the big house. Donnel had no problem kissing Faegan’s arse or debasing himself to stay in their eldest brother’s good graces. Donnel was also allergic to honest work, and the allowance Faegan bestowed upon him for his fealty effectively kept Donnel tethered to him.
Hamish wanted to beat Faegan’s arse. The only reason he hadn’t yet was that he didn’t know if he could beat Faegan in a fair fight. Faegan was older than him and had grown up fighting with his fists for survival.
And he was a damned cheat. If forced to fight Faegan, he’d have to kill him or spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. Faegan would never stand for defeat from his younger brother.
I knew it was too good to be true.
Things around here had been too peaceful for too long. Mostly because Faegan was too engrossed first in finding “suitable” mates for his two sons. Then, most recently, in his hunt for their little sister and her unapproved wolf mate, who’d managed to sneak off right under Faegan’s nose. When Faegan sank his teeth into a situation, it was rare that he released it until it was settled to his satisfaction.
Bryn had committed the unimaginable sin of mating for love, without Faegan’s permission, and to a Prime Alpha wolf shifter, no less. Faegan spread the word he’d murdered them, but the truth—Hamish suspected, because he had no proof—was that they’d evaded Faegan.
No one was supposed to know that, however. Faegan didn’t even know Hamish knew. Had Hamish not been lurking around the gardens at the big house last year, he wouldn’t have overheard Donnel and Faegan discussing it.
It was a laughable lie to start with. Faegan? An Alpha corgi shifter getting the better of a Prime Alpha wolf in a fair fight?
Still, with Faegan’s tight and silent circle, no hint of the truth escaped even as Faegan turned the country inside out, attempting to locate them.
Hamish finished washing up and then threw the bolt on his door to avoid further surprise visits. There wasn’t much he needed to take with him. What few belongings he wanted or required he could easily fit in a rucksack.
First, he sat down and ate some of the delicious food Frannie, Faegan’s cook and Donnel’s frequent lover, had sent with his brother. The woman was a shifter, but her mother wasn’t. And her family was poor, indebted to Faegan. In Faegan’s world, that meant he wouldn’t let Donnel claim her as a mate and wife both because she wasn’t “pure” and because Faegan could keep her in reserve in case another shifter came looking for a bitch to mate, and then charge an exorbitant dowry for the privilege.
Faegan’s wife, Hyacinth, was a horrible cook. She wasn’t much of a mother, either, in Hamish’s opinion. But he supposed if he were married to Faegan, he might also acquiesce the way she had as a survival tactic.
Especially after the things she’d survived over the years that Faegan had subjected her to.
Hamish knew for a fact she drank to excess in a futile attempt to numb her emotional pain. From what tidbits Hamish gleaned over the years, he was certain Faegan had murdered the nonshifter man Hyacinth had loved and planned to marry against her family’s wishes.
And then there were her children, who hadn’t survived their father’s…attention.
At full dark, Hamish stoked the hearth, extinguished his lamps, and pulled the shutters closed. Ironic that he’d just run all day today. He’d felt the irresistible pull of it that morning, as if something inside him sensed well before he did that it would be his last turn around his beloved countryside.
